


Love Me Some Home

by Schwoozie



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kissing, POV Third Person, Prison Family, Reunion, really grossly happy actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's only once things have settled down—after the tears and embraces and her baby sister's hand, once again familiar within hers—that Maggie begins to notice something strange."</p><p>or: Daryl and Beth are gross, Maggie is concerned, and Rick's blood pressure can't take much more of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's only once things have settled down—after the tears and embraces and her baby sister's hand, once again familiar within hers—that Maggie begins to notice something strange.

At first she rationalizes it. Four months on the run—dashing through the woods and sneaking through suburbs and amassing scars that Maggie hasn't yet had the guts to ask about; living with only the certainty that _they_ are living, with the graves already rising in their bones lest they lose their last edge to false hope—Maggie'd felt it too, with Bob and Sasha. True, it'd been shorter for them—only a couple of weeks before Carl nearly blew her head off as they scoped the same house and she finally, at last, could let herself truly hope—but even again in her circle of family, Glenn's scrawny backside slotted against her every night, she couldn't help but gravitate to the two people who'd made sure she kept her head.

She'd never've survived without them, she knows; she sees now, in the safety of hindsight, how reckless she'd been; how many bites her mourning flesh would have amassed if Sasha weren't so wicked with a hunting knife. But Maggie knows it goes beyond that. Gratitude isn't what gives her the shudder of relief when she sees them alive and breathing every morning, or the way she feels safer doing runs with them than with even her husband. Somewhere in those weeks of hurting and hoping and huddling together against the cold of a night unbuffered by friendly walls, of nothing more than some tin cans on a string, her bones began to hum in tune with theirs'. It makes _sense_ , for the same to've happened to them.

But it isn't the same, and Maggie knows it from the first time she sees them. Carl'd woken the lot of them with his hollering from the roof, and Rick'd woken every walker in the county as he hollered back to keep it quiet, and Maggie'd been the first out the door, hands tight and natural on her rifle as she sighted down the field so similar to the one she'd grown up on. The sun'd been in her eyes, and it took her a moment to distinguish their shadows, one dark and one light, against the morning glare; but then her rifle'd fallen to her feet and she damn near broke her neck leaping off the porch and there were Bethy's arms (had she always had a grip so tight, strong enough for Maggie's skull to creak with complaint?), they were around her again, and the two of them were on the ground, rocking and sobbing and grinning till Beth's teeth were stained from the blood of her cracked, sunburned lips. Maggie was hardly aware of Rick and Daryl, still on their feet but making sounds not far from her own; and then the family,  _her_ family, was around her again; Michonne hugged Beth and Tyreese shook Daryl's hand and Maggie didn't let go of her sister, not once that whole brilliant, ecstatic morning.

Maggie'd be the first to admit she wasn't at her most observant that day; but even her joy-blinkered eyes were puzzled by the way Beth half turned out of their embrace when Daryl started making strangled, half-choked sobs into the shoulder of Rick's shirt; and then the way he looked at her, when he'd calmed enough to breathe again—how his red rimmed eyes, even puffier than normal but somehow wider than she'd ever seen 'em, had sought out Beth's gaze before dropping abashedly to the ground; how when Maggie wouldn't let Beth out of her sight, Beth seemed to be doing the same with Daryl.

But now, seeing them on the couch—Daryl dozing after a long hard run and Beth curled into his side like a kitten, flipping through a magazine with a small smile on her face—and Maggie'd never in a million years expected to equate Daryl Dixon with a house cat, but that's exactly what he resembles when Beth squirms against him and he turns to snuffle his face in her hair, like a great dark tabby with its tawny mate and it's been so long since Maggie's worried about Beth being  _anyone's_ mate—and  _Daryl_ —

He's greasy and taciturn and blunt as all hell, especially when everyone else's trying to play the diplomat; and yeah, Maggie's spent a few blue moons thinking about his arms all bunched up around his crossbow, and so what if she brought home a set of weights as an anniversary gift for Glenn; and there's no way to miss everything he's done for the group, the way Rick is looking calmer than he has since playing farmer and everyone's cheeks are a little plumper for the game he brings in, and no red-blooded female Maggie knows could resist a man cleaning squirrel guts off his hands so he can rock someone else's baby girl to sleep; but he's almost twice Beth's age and his brother'd beat Glenn near half to death—but he chose them over that brother, trading a lifetime as a Dixon for a few years of whatever they were—but he's still rude and loud and Maggie's never seen someone with worse table manners in her life—

—but then he looks at Beth like she's made of pure sunshine, like just being in the same room with her makes him jittery and glowing all at once—and once a lady belongs to Daryl, he'll fight for her until maggots are laying eggs in both of their eye sockets, and even Bethy, Maggie thinks, could do a lot worse than that...

But Maggie isn't sure, not of what she thinks she sees and not even if she's seeing the same sister. Both girls'd grown up with the end of the world, but sometimes Maggie forgets. She's never felt comfortable holding Judith in hands that had done what hers have; for so long, Beth's doll eyes and soft touch was all she had to combat the hardness festering in her heart. They're all traumatized, Beth in some ways most of all—but she'd kept that little corner of quiet everyone else'd lost sight of. She despaired, but she also believed in the end of despair; she wasn't so naive to think that her life and the lives of everyone she loved wouldn't end in pain and sorrow, but for her the tragedy had an ending—or at least a mile or two of detour, where safety and warmth stayed holy.

That quiet hasn't gone from her, but Maggie can see it's sharpened—wielded like a weapon just as potent as the worn knife at her belt. A stranger would still call her baby-faced, but Maggie sees the hollowness of her cheeks and the years grown in months swirling in her too-steady gaze; sometimes Maggie looks in her eyes and sees her father's head perpendicular to his body, and leaves the room before she'll retch. Death is inside her now. Maggie almost wishes Rick had asked her the three questions before he let them inside, because Maggie's too scared to ask it herself—how far did her baby sister have to go, to hold that knife without trembling?

So she can't ask Beth what's going on between her and the half-reformed hick; she tries to talk to Glenn, but he says he doesn't see anything different. It infuriates her, but she supposes it's to be expected. He doesn't know Beth like she does.

And only one person knows Daryl.

Which is why Maggie shucks Glenn's arm from around her shoulders and goes to where Rick is sitting in the grass. It's a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and they've all decided to take their lunch of Campbell's and squirrel meat outside. Rick is watching Michonne and Carl tend to Judith; she's close to walking on her own now, and they're sending the toddler back and forth between them, rewarding her with tickles and handfulls of Michonne's braids. He looks so content, Maggie almost doesn't interrupt him; but the man doesn't sit still more than five minutes a day, and lord how she'd like to lay this whole mess to rest.

“Rick, can I talk with you a minute?”

“Sure, Mags, siddown.”

“You think we can walk?”

Rick raises both eyebrows at her, then levers himself to his feet. She leads him to lean against the porch, where they're out of everyone's earshot.

“Listen, Glenn's already told me I'm going crazy, but I'd really appreciate you hearing me out before you start laughing at me, alright?”

Rick's eyebrows go even higher, but he nods in assent. Lord, she hopes she's wrong.

“You think there's something going on between Daryl and Beth?”

Rick frowns, and looks over at them. They're sitting, of course, together, also watching Michonne and Carl play with the baby. The casual observer wouldn't see anything improper; but Daryl's leaning back with an elbow propped on his knee, the other hand sunk in the grass suspiciously close to where Beth's wrist also disappears. Maggie can't remember him ever looking so at ease so close to another person; and there's something about Beth's body language, the way her head tilts towards him even while she watches the kids at play, that makes Maggie think she's paying more attention to Daryl than anything she's looking at.

As she and Rick watch, Daryl turns to Beth and says something; she throws her head back and laughs, barely stifling it behind a swift palm before she brings every walker in the area down on them; and even from across the lawn Maggie can see the blush spread up Daryl's neck as he ducks his head, his arm inching even closer.

Maggie turns to Rick expectantly. He glances at her, then back at the pair. Maggie's heart sinks.

“Huh,” he says.

“Goddamnit,” Maggie mutters. She shakes her head and goes inside. She'd stashed away a bottle of whiskey on the last run. She thinks it's time to say hello.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One quiet night, Rick decides it's time to ask Daryl about his relationship with Beth. Choosing to approach him while he's holding his crossbow, however, might not have been one of Rick's brighter ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I originally planned this to be two chapters, but this section got long enough I feel like it deserves to be its own section. Plus, this means you guys get something tonight and I can go to sleep.
> 
> Also, a note on the logistics: except for Beth and Daryl not getting separated, everything in this fic follows the canon established up to "The Grove". Which I just watched tonight. I cried a lot, guys.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

When Daryl came home from hunting with word of a large group of men moving through the area, Rick reluctantly decided to abandon the ranch house to find somewhere more easily defendable. He almost misses the days when it was just him, Carl, and Michonne—he's forgotten how hard moving such a large group could be, especially when they have to keep their tracks scarce. 

They've bunked in an old industrial building; Bob says it used to be a shoe factory, that he'd worked in one like it in high school. It had been stripped of anything useful long ago, and most of the machinery is dismantled and lying in heaps that throw ominous shadows on the ceiling. But the walls are heavy brick and there's only one entrance, and with even Sasha looking a little worn, Rick imagines taking a few days sanctuary would be good for all of them.

It's an hour or so past sundown when Rick untangles himself from his blankets, careful not to wake anyone. Michonne's eyes flash at him when his soft tread lands by her head; he gives her a reassuring nod and her hand retracts from its place on her katana. She smiles back, far too softly, and Rick nearly trips over himself before looking away.

He takes a moment to survey his family in their little groupings. Tyreese and Carol are edgy around each other, have been since Rick'd seen them again; Carol'd told him that Tyreese knew and that was that, and honestly, Rick doesn't think he would've had the strength to run her off again; but even with the discomfort, they've laid their blankets side-by-side, in a rough circle with Bob, Sasha, and Tara's empty bunk, which she'd left to stand guard on the roof. Maggie and Glenn are wrapped around each other as usual, and Carl is already dozing beside Michonne and himself. Beth's curled herself around Judith; it's been a few minutes since her quiet singing had petered out, and Rick smiles softly looking down on them. Rick'd accepted long ago with Carl that he isn't the deftest hand with babies, and he can only be thankful that his daughter is so loved. Hell, she could be in the waters of a mighty tantrum and one croon from Daryl or Beth would have her quiet in a jiffy.

The man himself is parked a little ways away from the rest of them. It's been a long time since Daryl had felt the need to put an entire field between himself and the group, but Rick's stomach can't help but twinge with the shadows of the corner he's backed himself into, his clear view of the door and windows. When his family began finding each other again, Rick had retaken the mantle of leader with no complaint: but he'd never felt truly at ease in the position until he got Daryl back. It's a feeling deep in his gut that Rick's never felt before with anyone; he's felt shadows of it, with Shane and sometimes Lori, more and more with Michonne—but never this bone deep rightness, like some sort of see-saw inside him has finally regained balance. He wishes that Daryl could feel right enough with the rest of them to sleep as they live, side by side; but Rick also knows that from that position, any intruder would have him up and fighting-fit in a flash, and even a touch-starved man like Daryl would forgo his family's body heat if it would keep them safe.

It's also the only spot aside from her side that gives him a clear eye-line on Beth. True, he can also keep an eye on everyone else, but since the afternoon when Maggie'd come to him, Rick can't help feeling like any tiny glance is just another weight on the evidence pile.

Rick makes his way over, moving slowly to appear non-threatening even though he knows Daryl's been tracking his movements since he rose. Daryl acknowledges Rick with a glance and a nod as he moves to lean against the wall. He's working over his bow to the dim light of a solar lamp. Rick's rarely seen a clear inch of skin on the man, but he keeps that damn crossbow pretty enough to take the prize in a pony show. He watches Daryl's work silently and for a moment lets himself get drawn into the peace of the night. He can hear the faint strains of a walker groaning in the alley below, but it's nearly drowned out by the buzz of cicadas and Maggie's snores.

“You want something, or you just here for the pleasure of my company?”

Rick snorts. Daryl's still bent over the bow, but Rick can feel that his attention's shifted onto him.

“Don't know anyone who'd admit to wanting the latter.” Daryl doesn't respond beyond a quirk of his lips. Rick likes this, the way they can talk without complicating things, can deal in silences without reproach. The ease would come and go with others, but never with him; but that was Daryl, after all, steady as a dam in a storm.

“You agree we'd be alright, staying here a few days?” Rick asks.

“Can't see why not, long's we keep good watch.”

Rick nods. “That's good.” He pauses, looks towards the glint of gold sticking out of a mound of blankets. He watches Daryl carefully when he says, “Beth told me Judith's been teething, might be ready for some solid food. You up for a run tomorrow?”

Daryl shrugs, winching up the bow to get at the joint. “A'int got nothing better ta do.”

“Glenn's been hinting he's looking for more condoms too.”

Daryl snorts. “'S the damn apocalypse and y'all still can't keep it in your pants.”

“You won't be needing any then?”

Daryl looks up sharply at that. “You propositioning me, Sheriff?”

“Nah. You a'int my type; too skinny.”

Daryl grunts and returns to his work. “I reckon not, then.”

“So there's no one you've got your eye on?”

“A'int like I got many to choose from.” 

Even in the dim light, Rick can see the red rise in Daryl's ears. He sucks in a breath before saying, “You'n Beth seem close lately.”

Daryl goes deathly still.

He's silent for so long, shoulders hunched up and defensive, Rick's about to apologize and go back to bed when the man says quietly, “'S not like that.”

“What's it like then?”

Daryl is definitely looking at him now when he snaps out, “You got somethin' to say you best be sayin' it, Grimes, I a'int got time for your bullshit.”

Rick sighs heavily. “Look, Daryl—“

“'Could say the same 'bout you'n Michonne, you know. You need'n protection any time soon, Sheriff?”

Rick stiffens. “Now Daryl, look here—“

“—cause if you gonna be throwin' round accusations I don't have ta sit here and take it—“

“Whoa, Daryl, whoa, quiet down now.” Rick crouches down to bob in his heels, get on Daryl's eye level. With the simple motion Daryl deflates. The other man avoids his gaze furtively, flexing his fingers around the bow like he's thinking of using it. “No one's accusing you of nothing.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

“Well it a'int true. Why don't you calm yourself and we can talk about this.”

“'S nothin' to talk about.”

“You get this agitated over nothing?”

“I a'int agitated!” he snaps. Rick smirks, and Daryl has the grace to look sheepish. “You's the one ambushin' me.”

“I didn’t mean to do that, Daryl, and I apologize. It's just what I've been seeing. I know I a'int an officer of the law anymore, and she's 18 anyhow, but you know how it looks, don't you? Maggie's worried about her sister.”

“'Told you, Rick, it a'int like that.”

“Can you explain it to me, then?”

“I don't... it's me'n Beth's business.”

“I just want to be sure you know what you're doing.”

Daryl huffs softly, muttering under his breath, “You'n me both.” He glances at Rick from beneath his overgrown fringe. “Maggie said somethin' t'you?”

“Just that the two of you've seemed close since you got back. Mighty close.”

Daryl shrugs uncomfortably. “A'int a crime.”

“I know it a'int, but Daryl, she's 18—“

“What, I act sweet to a girl and your first thought is I'm screwin' her? 'S that what y'all think of me?”

“You know it a'int! Look—“ Rick scrubs a hand over his face. “I've gone about this all wrong. I just want a little clarity here. I a'int a dictator no more but it helps to know what's going on. Besides all that, I'm your friend. You seem happier; you both do. If you make each other happy, that's all I need to know.”

Daryl shifts uncomfortably. “She's a good girl.”

Rick can tell they've moved past the danger zone, and he relaxes. “You love her, then?”

“Hell, man, what's gotten int'a you?”

“I'm just asking!”

“Well... don't, a'right?” Daryl fidgets a bit more, then suddenly meets Rick's eyes, looking at him earnestly. “I don't even know what we got. But she... I wouldn't'a lived if not for her. She's just a... she's a light, ya know? Like one'a them candles you put in the window for Christmas. And I know I a'int good enough for her; a'int good enough for anyone... but there a'int nothin' frisky goin' on so goddamn stop askin' me this stuff!”

Daryl looks so mortified after his little speech that Rick decides their talk's gone on long enough.

“That's all I needed to know, man, thank you. Maggie might still come after you, but I'll run interference as long as I can.” Daryl looks slightly nauseous. Rick stands, laughing, and claps him on the shoulder. “You get a good night's rest, y'hear? You've earned it.”

“Yessir,” he mumbles.

“And Daryl,” Rick crouches back down, squeezing Daryl's shoulder until he meets his eyes again, “you're more than good enough. For anyone. I hope you know that.”

Daryl blinks at him several times; Rick pretends not to see the way his bottom lip trembles. After a few moments Daryl gives a jerky nod before looking back to his bow. “'F you say so.”

“I do.” Rick claps him on the shoulder one more time, then leaves him be, crossing the room back to Michonne's side. As he passes Beth he could swear he sees her eyes snap shut, like she's only pretending.

After a moment's thought, Rick decides to ignore it. They've all earned their happiness, no matter where it's found.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be pushing Richonne a wee bit too hard, but she and the Grimeses are just so cute together, ok.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Beth finally get some time alone, but his demons are never far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies to anyone who catches the teeny BtVS reference.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Daryl reckons it's around two in the morning when he jerks awake. He'd nodded off slumped against the wall, still too tense to feel at ease stretched out and vulnerable. He never sleeps well the first few nights in a new place. No matter how much Rick begs him to take a load off (there's enough folks wandering around dead on their feet; no need to add a sleep-deprived Daryl), he can't help feeling that if he's the one who found the place, he should be the one to protect it. He'd confessed as much to Carol, and she told him what she thought of that; but when he thinks of who it is that need protecting, he can't justify anything else.

Stifling a yawn, he shuffles into his boots and does a quick sweep of the room. The machinery they'd piled against the door is still stable, the walkers outside quiet. Tara's returned to her bunk, snoring softly, leaving Bob to take her spot on the roof.

Daryl notes the other empty bedroll with a half-hearted groan. Stopping to grab his knife and crossbow, he pads silently from the floor, climbing a short flight of stairs to the one-room apartment he'd found while scoping the place.

Beth is on a queen-sized mattress on the floor in the middle of the room, dozing beneath a blanket. A small window on the far wall frames a bleeding harvest moon, and a small tallow candle burns on the table.

She jerks upright at the sound of the door. When she sees him, an easy smile blooms across her face, and Daryl almost feels bad for being annoyed.

“Hey you,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He closes the door firmly behind himself. “'Thought I'd talked you out'a this fool idea.”

“Seein's how you're being an idiot, I decided to take my own initiative.” She grins cheekily, like she's the greatest goddamn thing since Wonderbread.

“Well... you don't have ta be so obvious about it. It a'int hard to see who and who's missin', 'specially with your blanket gone.”

“Everyone's exhausted, they couldn't tell a right shoe from a left.” Daryl's still hovering near the door. Beth's smile dims a little. “Please, Daryl? Just for a little while?”

“Beth...”

“I miss you.”

Daryl swallows, and slowly turns the lock on the door. He'd checked earlier, to be sure he could hear any commotion going on outside even with the door closed. This was, of course, before he told Beth about the room and gave her the fool notion of meeting when everyone else was asleep. He still thinks it's a shit idea and they're bound to get caught—but Beth is blinking up at him with her hopeful eyes and her sweater falling off her shoulder—and who could blame him for slipping out of his shoes and sliding beneath the blanket, leaving his weapons in arm's reach. He's grown unused to her proximity, alone in the dark; he lies stiffly on his back as she wraps herself around him. Her nose brushes the skin above his collar and he slowly relaxes, bringing an arm around her.

“Hmm, this is nice,” she sighs, snuggling herself against his chin. “'S been a long time.”

“Yeah,” he says gruffly, closing his eyes against the tightness in his chest.

“Never thought there'd be a reason I wouldn't want to find the rest of us.”

Daryl can feel his whole face heating up; it's a common occurrence around Beth, ever since the night two months into their time together when he'd gone hunting with a fever; he returned to their hideaway gameless and delirious, and thought nothing of blearily clinging to the only warm thing in the room.

Suffice it to say, Beth did not wake up to one of his better mornings.

It took him several days to stop flinching when she looked at him, pinning him in place with her doll eyes and pouty lips and the left breast he'd woken to find his hand wrapped around, tenting the front of her tank top—and even then, the ease they'd finally settled into the night they burned the house down remained strained. Daryl hated it, and he knew Beth felt the same; which is why when, on a particularly cold night, she ordered him into bed beside her, he went without protest and took the spot every night since.

(it took another month for the kissing to start; another week of what Beth called his “tantrums” for him to accept that too)

“Tough wi' a small house, 'n on the move.” He smirks. “Yer sister's been damn moody lately.”

She swats lightly at his bare bicep, making the skin tingle. “Don't be rude.”

“I'm a bad, rude man, 'member?”

Beth giggles; he snorts and in a single motion rolls on top of her. The laughter catches in her throat as her hands go automatically to his chest. He makes sure to keep his full weight off her, but the way her fingers clench in the material of his shirt makes his arms feel weak.

“'F I didn't know any better, I'd say you a'int takin' me too seriously.”

“Wouldn't want that,” she says breathily, and Lord, it's been a long time—just being with her, together in the quiet, the scent of himself in her hair. He pushes it back from her face now; her ponytail is all but undone. He wants to take apart her braid one link at a time, fan the locks around her head and bury his hands against her scalp. He wants to do all sorts of things.

“We can't stay long,” he says softly, touching her cheek.

“I know it,” she replies. She leans into his touch until her lips brush against his finger; he leans down and presses a feathery kiss against her cheekbone, making her hum. “Whadda ya want ta do, then, up here by our lonesome?”

He knows she feels him tense up; he pulls back but avoids her gaze, staring at the mattress below her shoulder.

“Hey, wait a minute: I didn't meant _that_ ; notin particular.”

“I know,” he mutters, cheeks flaming. “Can we just be here then?”

“'Course,” she says softly. She presses a hand against his forehead and smooths it back over his hair. She studies his expression and frowns. “You doin' alright? You look worried 'bout something.”

“Rick came ta talk t' me tonight.”

“I know. I saw him go back to bed.”

“Maggie'd said some stuff to him; they think I'm takin' advantage.”

“He said that? Exactly?”

“I... no. But he's thinkin' it.” Daryl ducks his head. “You think I a'int used ta this, Beth? Time was I even breathed on a girl like you, her daddy'd have his shotgun out faster'n a horse race.”

“Well, you a'int gotta worry 'bout my daddy, at least.”

His head snaps up. “Beth, I—“

“I've had my time, Daryl. It hurts, but it don't...” Her breath catches again, but not at all in the way Daryl likes. “Well, maybe it still just hurts.” She gives a shaky little laugh. “But my point is... we don't have'ta be afraid. Not of Daddy, not of dyin' or bein' separated.”

“'Don't see what's changed.”

“We have. _You_ have. We have our family back. I a'int sayin' we're all gonna make it, and it'll still hurt, each and every time... but the worst is past. I'd never've survived without you. I can _now_. But I don’t want to. You're stuck with me, Daryl Dixon.” She smiles sweetly, tugging a bit at his hair. “I'm used to gettin' what I want, remember?”

Daryl snorts. “Don't I know it.” With a sigh he rolls off of her. She seems made of shadows when she sits up to look down on him, painted in oil against the moon and flame. “I want t'be good to you, Beth.”

“You are,” she says, sliding her tiny hand into his. “We don't have ta do anything you don't want to do. Just being here with you makes it the best night of my life.” The earnest, girlish honesty in her voice makes him feel choked. She leans down and brushes a kiss against the corner of his mouth; he feels her grin on his skin when he turns towards her instinctively, seeking her lips. After a moment of giggling she presses her mouth to his. He hums happily, cupping the back of her skull with one hand and sliding the other down the curve of her back. His heart races against her breasts where they press against him and he moves the hand on her back to her belly, sliding between them up under her tank. She groans into his mouth loud and throaty at the feeling of his calluses snagging her bellybutton.

They spend a few minutes just like this: Daryl working at the soft skin on her stomach, Beth mewling and licking into his mouth. In their writhing she gets one of his legs between hers and suddenly grinds down on his thigh.

Daryl hopes she doesn't notice his small jump; but she's gone still now, and untangles her mouth from his to hover above him, panting heavily. The room is still draped heavy in shadows but he can see the flush across her cheeks and swollen lips. Her eyes when they lock on his are at once hazy and sharp as nails. She hardly blinks as she struggles for breath.

“Sorry,” she gasps, smiling sheepishly. “Got a little carried away, I guess.”

Daryl blinks heavily then squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his head back on the mattress and groaning. “Jesus, Beth, I'm sorry, I didn’t want—“

“Shh, shh, hey, look at me.” Daryl squints up at her, furious at the stinging behind his eyes. “That was my fault, alright? I wasn’t askin' for nothing.”

“But you should!” he says angrily. He pulls his hand from her shirt and sits up, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. “We been doin' this for fuckin' months, I should be... I should be fixed by now, right?”

“There a'int no fixed, Daryl.” She tentatively puts a hand on his shoulder; when he doesn't pull away, she drapes herself across his back, holding him under the arms like she did all those months ago. “It's a part of you. I don't want anything but that.”

“You deserve better,” he whispers.

“That's bullshit.” He jerks a little at her language, and she laughs. “Yeah, I said it. You gonna do something 'bout it?” She sobers quickly. “Daryl, I don't want nothin' else. I don't need sex to be with you.”

“What is this then?”

“What do you mean?”

“This... whatever it is we got.” Daryl pulls away and turns so he can look at her. “Rick asked if we needed _condoms_ , fer Christ's sakes. I told him it a'int like that... but I _want_ it ta be.”

“Why?” she asks softly.

He growls and squeezes his eyes shut again. “Jesus, I don't know. When it was just us 't didn't matter, but this... 'f we were fucking at least I'd know what to fuckin'  _say_ .”

“Why you gotta say anything?”

“Cause it's Rick. And yer sister. They wanna know my _intentions_ , 'n I feel dirtier fer not touchin' you than if I were.”

“Well excuse me, mister, but I got intentions too. And I intend to be with you no matter what anyone says.”

“But Beth... you a'int messed up like I am.”

“What's that gotta do with anything? What, you think I should dump you and look for someone else? Even if I wanted to—which I _don't_ —it a'int like being all self-sacrificial's gonna be helping me none.” She takes one of his dirty hands in her two pale ones, looking up at him earnestly. “It doesn't matter whether everyone else is right through that door or a million miles away. It's just us in here. It's just me. I wanna make us a place where you don't hav'ta be afraid.”

“I a'int afraid of nothin',” Daryl mutters.

“I know, hon,” she says; he knows he should be offended by her flippancy, but the endearment does something funny to his facial muscles and he can't quite fix them the way he wants to. She looks at him with the small frown she gets when she's thinking hard about something. “D'you want me to talk to them? If I explain it—“

“It a'int on you, Beth.”

“If it's on you, it's on me. You don't get to be the martyr here, Daryl; that a'int how a relationship works.”

“We in a relationship now?”

Beth rolls her eyes. “You're the one trying ta put lables on things.” She squeezes his hand. “We go together, then: we say we're together and anything more than than is none of their business.”

Daryl grimaces. “Yer sister's gonna string my balls on the laundry line.”

She squinches up her face and he can't help but smile. “Daryl, gross!”

He chuckles. “Wimp.”

“Redneck.”

He leans into her space. “Little girl.”

They grin right into each other's faces for a few moments before Beth flops down, tugging plaintively at his hand. “Come on, can we at least lie together for a little bit?”

“Can do more than that.” He leans down and kisses her deeply; wills away their conversation with the press of his body and the tangle of his hands in her hair. She kisses back carefully but fiercely, running her hands up and down his bare arms.

When they finally break apart, Beth grins triumphantly. “Who's the little girl again?”

Daryl chuckles deep in his chest as he yanks the blankets up around them. “Y'know we can't stay much longer.”

She sighs. “I know. I wish we'd started this at the prison. All those cells and no one ta use 'em.”

“Yer forgettin' how bad it echoed in there. Glenn n' Maggie were like a damn bullhorn.”

“We'd sure've given 'em a run for their money though.” The last words come strangled in a yawn. He smirks and nuzzles into her cheek.

“Tha's fer sure. The walkers'd blush, th' way you holler.”

“It's your fault though; too damn good at treatin' me.”

“I still say you deserve better,” he mumbles, gathering her to him sleepily.

She kisses the hollow of his throat, closing her eyes and breathing deep.

“There a'int nothing could be better than you, Daryl Dixon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now! If I get any special inspiration, I might write a coda of everyone's reactions; but I've used too much of my vacation already.
> 
> Let me know if any of the dialect feels unnatural, I'm a little unsure about it. I hope the nature of Daryl's insecurities is clear as well; I want it to be a control thing, maybe also interacting with the asexuality spectrum. Let me know if I misrepresented anything.
> 
> Also very much needing to rewatch "Where The Heart Is". I couldn't help co-opting the most perfect of last lines.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story!


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